


Mine

by AsrielDremurr



Series: Dark!Bruce x Jeremiah [2]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 14:38:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20909288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsrielDremurr/pseuds/AsrielDremurr
Summary: Bruce negotiates with Oswald Cobblepot. It leads to unforeseeable events.





	Mine

If there is something Bruce hates it's negotiating with the crime bosses of Gotham. It's tiring to pretend like he cares, as if he can't just blow up their entire hideouts. He could wipe their existence from the map but instead he has to sit here across from Oswald Cobblepot and talk about borders.

"I want the Green Zone. You can have the other one.," Oswald says. His long nose looks like a beak and Bruce almost rolls his eyes, almost. Instead he turns to Jeremiah next to him and runs his hand through his hair.

"What do you think about that, Miah?" His voice is soft, as if he's talking to a dog.

Jeremiah looks up at him with soft eyes. His purple shirt is halfway unbuttoned and the collar around his neck says "Bruce" in big golden letters. He looks beautiful, so utterly under Bruce's control. It's hard to stay neutral when he looks like that.

"The Green Zone is one of the most important areas. We can't afford to give it up."

Bruce nods. He almost leans in to kiss Jeremiah as a thank you but then he remembers that he has to stay cold. His business partners would use it as a weakness and he can't afford to lose his servant. Instead he runs his hand over Jeremiah's thigh while he keeps his eyes on Oswald as if nothing happens. The Valeska shivers next to him and leans into his hand.

"How about we keep the Green Zone and you can have the one the gangs run? The Dark Zone? You'd gain good turf and followers."

Oswald furrows his brows. He looks up at the man standing behind him to consult. Edward Nygma leans down so they can whisper.

Bruce rolls his eyes and turns his attention to Jeremiah who is squirming in his seat. A slap on his thigh and he stills instantly, stares up at him with wide green eyes.

"Go have a little fun, okay? I'll be done here soon."

Jeremiah nods eagerly and disappears to the dance floor. Bruce's eyes follow him, run over his backside. The leather pants really suit him. They need to buy a new pair.

Oswald clears his throat and Bruce slowly turns his head back to him, doesn't want to give him the feeling that he cares. The Penguin is a powerful man in Gotham but he's a tiring negotiator. The other ones are easier. They'd lick the dirt from his shoes if he asked them to. He actually has let them do that once or twice. The rush of power was amazing.

"You can have the Green Zone but we want Haven."

Ah, Haven. The turf the GCPD under Jim Gordon runs. Many of Bruce's old friends are probably there by now, Alfred, Selina, Ivy maybe. Well, he doesn't care. If he gets the Green Zone as a whole then he can easily afford to give up Haven.

"Deal. But we get the Narrows."

Oswald's eyes almost fall out of his head. Bruce suppresses a grin as the man hurries to discuss that with Nygma. He averts his eyes, searches for Jeremiah instead. The man is dancing, putting on a show as soon as he realizes that Bruce is watching him. His eyes fix on Bruce's dark ones, never leaving them as he seductively walks around the pole in the middle of the small stage. Bruce grins darkly. The collar with his name shines in the low light and shows everyone who the attractive man belongs to. He looks beautiful.

The Penguin clears his throat and Bruce looks back at him. His bored expression seems to make his business partner angry because Oswald furrows his brows and his next words sound annoyed even though he tries to suppress it.

"We can't give you the Narrows. They're too important for transport."

Bruce cocks his head with a dark expression. "I guess then I'll have to talk to Lee Thompkins. Apparently you don't have the authority that I thought you possessed."

Oswald's eyes widen almost comically. Now there definitely is rage in the way he presses his lips together in a thin line. He is shaking as he tries to suppress it.

Bruce looks over at Jeremiah again. A few people have gathered around the stage where he dances and stare at him hungrily, as if he's just food, just an object. Bruce grits his teeth and pulls the gun from its holster around his hip.

Nobody dares to stop him as he stands up and walks over. The men have spotted him and step back with fear in their eyes. But one of them hasn't gotten the message. He grabs Jeremiah's hips and grinds into him, a lustful smirk on his face.

Bruce places the gun to the back of the man's head.

"Hands off."

His voice is cold as ice and the man freezes. He lets go and Jeremiah leaves the stage, takes his place at Bruce's side again.

"Turn around."

The man follows the command instantly. There is fear in his wide blue eyes and Bruce grins darkly as he stares at him. The barrel of his gun rests against the man's sweaty forehead.

"Hasn't your mother told you not to play with other kids' toys?"

The man begins to sputter an apology, his voice shaky and he almost sinks to his knees begging for forgiveness. Sadly there is no forgiveness for people who touch the things that belong to Bruce Wayne.

The shot rings through the bar and the man falls to the ground. Bruce stares at the body for a moment and then at the other men.

"Anyone who touches what is mine will end up like him," he promises and leads Jeremiah back to the table where Oswald sits. The Penguin says nothing, just waits until his business partner is seated again.

Bruce pulls Jeremiah into his lap, lips touching his ear, and Jeremiah shivers instantly. A hand slips under his shirt, caresses the scars over his hip that show who he belongs to. Not that people really need that, they already know.

Oswald clears his throat and Bruce looks up at him with obvious disinterest. His fingertips still rest on the letters engraved into Jeremiah's skin and the Valeska squirms in his lap, silently begging for more. He isn't going to get that for now.

"I'll talk to Lee Thompkins about the Narrows. We'll figure out a deal and contact you then."

The Penguin awaits an answer. The offer itself isn't bad but Bruce fears that Lee Thompkins could end up teaming up with Oswald and then the chances of ripping them both to shreds like he wants to aren't very high. Still, he can't really say no to that.

"Okay. But if I don't hear from you until next week I'll attack the Narrows and make them mine. And whoever dies isn't my problem."

Oswald's eyes widen and he gulps. Bruce has to grin. There's a satisfaction in the shock on his business partner's face and he sits up straight, head high while his hand runs over Jeremiah's skin.

"Or would you prefer if I killed you right now and took what is mine?"

The smirk on his lips is dark while his fingers play with the gun that still lays before him on the table. Oswald's men back away, they know better than to provoke him when he threatens someone. Even Edward Nygma has a hint of fear in his eyes.

"Everything will be to your delight, Mr. Wayne.," Oswald promises. His voice is shaking slightly, maybe from fear, maybe from rage. "I'll contact you in a week."

They shake hands and the Penguin leaves the club with all his henchmen. As soon as the door falls shut Bruce lets out a low growl.

"How dare he mock me like this! This is my place, my city, my decisions! He should beg for mercy on his knees before me!"

He stands up and Jeremiah jumps from his lap quickly, just to be out of his reach. The Wayne boy paces through the club, fists clenching at his sides. He should have shot Oswald. His men are scared of him anyway, they wouldn't have done anything.

Why didn't he just shoot him??

Bruce curses and grabs his empty glass from the table. He flings it until it shatters on the wall. It doesn't help or calm his rage.

"Jeremiah."

The order is short, precise, doesn't need more words. Jeremiah hurries to his side and Bruce grabs the collar around his neck and drags him outside where his car is parked. The chauffeur hurries to open the door for them and Bruce pushes Jeremiah into the backseat.

"Home!," he orders and the car drives off.

Jeremiah is spread out on the backseat and stares up at him, already shivering. It's wise to be scared when the Prince of Gotham is in a mood like this one.

Bruce stares down at the Valeska, a dark grin on his lips. He rips his shirt open all the way, his lips leaving bite marks on his skin. Jeremiah lets out a moan but it changes into a whimper when the cold blade of a knife touches his skin.

"Why did you let that guy touch you, Jeremiah?"

Bruce's voice is cold, his eyes dark as he runs the knife over Jeremiah's skin. He doesn't cut him yet but both know that it won't take long.

"I- I didn't think about it. He just grabbed me and I thought you'd enjoy to watch. I'm s-sorry!"

Jeremiah hiccups when the knife creates a small cut and his voice hitches. His body involuntarily jerks into the blade.

"You're sorry, huh? I feel like you enjoyed it. And that needs to be punished. You're mine, you aren't supposed to let other people touch you."

Jeremiah nods vigorously but it doesn't help. Bruce pushes the knife down harder and it splits skin, carves letters over his ribs.

Tears run down Jeremiah's cheeks and he whimpers in pain. His nails dig into the leather underneath him while he takes the pain, accepts it. Bruce leans down and licks the blood away, grinning as it stains his lips.

"You taste good, Miah. I should do this more often."

He pulls Jeremiah into a rough kiss, lets him taste his own blood and the rush of it makes him grin even wider. When he pulls back and looks at his work the blood has already stopped to flow.

"MINE" is carved into Jeremiah's skin in bold letters. Bruce knows that it won't be the last wound that will be engraved in his skin. He just loves the rush too much, loves that Jeremiah lets him do it, loves the devotion and the pain in his eyes, the trust. Jeremiah won't ever tell him no, he'll let him do whatever he wants to him and Bruce loves it.

The car comes to a halt in front of the former Wayne Manor that has now been turned into their palace, Bruce's palace. It has been renovated, expanded. More rooms, more space.

Bruce pulls Jeremiah into their home, the doors held open by their bodyguards. The Valeska can't walk straight, he is still shaking from the blood loss.

The dark carpet under their feet leads into the living room where Jeremiah sits down on the couch. Bruce leaves his side for a moment and when he sits down beside him again he has bandages and other things in his hands. The redhead whimpers when a piece of cloth drenched in alcohol comes in contact with his wound.

Blood stains Bruce's hand and the cloth he's holding. It seems to become a normality and he can't say that he minds it very much. It's almost sad to see the wound covered up by white cloth.

Jeremiah looks up at him with big eyes, the green orbs a little darker than usual. Bruce has to grin. They both love the pain but in very different ways. Still, somehow they both enjoy it, the rush, the trust that goes along with it. Jeremiah will allow him to do anything he wants, he knows that Bruce wouldn't kill him even if he could. Hopefully there will never be a moment when he has to...

Bruce shakes the thought away and tosses the utensils onto the floor. With one fluid motion he pulls Jeremiah onto his lap, dark eyes taking in the messy hair, the bit of blood that stains his teeth where he has bitten his lip. Again Bruce feels in awe of how beautiful he is, how pain really brings out the best in him.

Jeremiah carefully nuzzles into him, face buried in the crook of his neck. His breath hits soft skin and the Wayne boy tightens his arms around the man in his lap. He is still mad at what happened at the club with one of Penguin's men but then again, how can he be angry when Jeremiah has already taken his punishment? How can he be mad when the redhead leaves soft kisses on his neck to calm him down, knowing full well that anger is still boiling inside of him?

"I'll kill them all."

It's only a whisper that leaves Bruce's lips and still his voice is stern, sure, determined. Jeremiah looks up at him with questioning eyes. There's a hint of worry in them, too, but mostly awe and devotion. He never doubts his decisions.

"Penguin's men. I'll kill them all, one by one. I'll skin them and send their bodies to Penguin wrapped like a present. And then I'll kill him too."

Bruce's voice has become louder now, the rage inside him flows out with every word. Jeremiah smiles a little.

"Wouldn't it be better to kill Nygma instead, right before his eyes? He cares about him a lot. And then you could decide if you let Penguin live with the knowledge that you murdered his only friend, or you could kill him too. I think he's too dangerous, it would be safer if he died."

The Wayne boy looks at him with surprise but he has to admit that there's truth to those words. Penguin will suffer the most if he takes everything from him, even the man he loves in whichever way he is capable of.

"That's exactly why I keep you around. You have the best ideas."

He presses a kiss to Jeremiah's lips. It's a thank you, a sign of forgiveness. Jeremiah smiles into the kiss and carefully leans into him, hands tangling in dark messy hair. Bruce enjoys the touch for a moment, deepening the kiss until the redhead is gasping in his arms, arching, begging.

That's when he pulls away. He pushes Jeremiah off his lap and leaves him on the couch, whining, whimpering for his touch. Bruce ignores it and heads into his office.

He has to kill a penguin.


End file.
